by S. W. Frank
Nico glanced at the time, seven fifty eight. “Okay Ariana, do as we discussed. The call is two minutes away. I’m in the phone line. Stay calm. I can hear everything.”
“Okay.”
Alfonzo signaled to the guys to quiet and the room went silent. A minute later the phone rang and Ariana answered. “Hello?”
“You got the money?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t said anything to anybody, right?”
“No.”
“If you have bitch, the boys dead!”
Nico, Giuseppe and Alfonzo all snarled at the threat.
“I want to speak to Darren.”
“Not the deal.”
“Then fuck you. How do I know he’s still alive you sonovabitch!” She spat.
Giuseppe put a fist to his mouth to stifle the laugh in response to Ariana’s bold retort. Alfonzo and Nico gave him a censured glare.
“You don’t get to call the shots.”
“I’m not giving you a dime until I speak to my son and know he’s alive.”
There was a pause. It stretched on for a minute or so then a young voice came on the line, “Mom.”
“Oh God, Darren are you okay?”
“Mom they said you were laundering money for dad…”
There was a loud sound, like a fist contacting against skin and they could hear the kid tussling with somebody. The kid was losing, they all knew it because they heard him moaning and another hard blow resounded followed by crashing noises. The kid was being thrown around and it took every ounce of their combined strength not to shout into the line. Ariana lost control and in the rage of a mother screamed, “Leave him alone dammit, leave my son alone you fucking coward, he’s only a kid!”
There was heavy breathing then the voice, “You should teach the kid some goddamn manners. You have three hours, to make the drop. One minute too late and I’ll slice his fucking throat.”
Ariana was crying and it tore Nico apart. He was in a quiet rage as he listened to Ariana’s broken voice, “Where…where do I leave it?”
“You’re to load the money in laundry bags, drive to the parking lot of the Multiplex Theatre in Fresh Meadows, park close to the brick building on the northeast side. You and the kid are to get out the car and go inside the Starbucks, get something to drink and in fifteen minutes go back to the car. In the driver’s seat, you’ll find the address where to get your son. Your three hours starts now.”
The phone went dead and Ariana broke down crying. “Nico…please kill that sonovabitch and if Gregory’s involved kill him too!”
Nico’s blood boiled. The rage so intensely palpable his eyes burned. The man believed Ariana was still in New York, good, which meant he had no idea the person coming for him was bringing hell in his wake. He saw Giuseppe’s face turn cold as he sobered under the brutality of the man. Alfonzo rolled the tightness out of his neck, tonight they were one force and the people who snatched Nico’s kid opened the fiery gates of hell.
Through clenched teeth, Nico answered. “If I’ve done anything right in my life Ariana it’s you and the boys. Sweetheart, Darren will get home and I’ll make sure that sonovabitch pays. You hear me?”
Her voice held such pain, “Nico, I’m sorry about everything I said to you. Please, be careful. I want you to make it home safe also with the boys. All of you guys, I’m praying you all come home safe. Thanks Nico honey I love you!”
Her love was all the strength he needed and he swore on his life there would be no turning back from the rage unleashed during his killing spree.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ariana slumped to the floor crying as she clutched the cell phone tightly in her hand. The savage person beat her son as if he were beating a man. She prayed all right. She prayed Nico pummeled the man to death for hurting their son. “Oh my baby…oh Darren…my baby…oh Jesus help me!” She wailed.
It was her fault. She’d let a monster into her children’s life who she hadn’t truly known. Gregory’s profession didn’t make him trustworthy or kind. He wore a suit of respectability but beneath it lie a vile and evil man. The injury was not only to her heart but to her son as well. She should have been more careful who she brought into her home. It’s often the people closest to you who do the greatest harm. Nico with his many flaws was nowhere near the evil man Gregory Dixon was. Only a demon could do such a thing to a child.
The door opened and Selange appeared. There was concern written across her face when she enquired, “Ariana, is everything alright?”
Ariana’s head snapped up. They had avoided each other all day. The confrontation destined to occur was held in abeyance until this moment. “Of course everything’s not alright. My son’s being held against his will, bitch!”
Selange blinked at the temperature of her words. Ariana was angry, yet she forgot where she was. There were children in the home. She stepped inside and closed the door, eyeing the grief-stricken woman propped on the floor near the window and chose her words very carefully, cognizance of the woman’s distress. “I’m sorry this is happening to you, I really am but you can’t verbally attack me in my home.”
Ariana was on her feet, “You’re sorry…where was this conscience when you slept with my husband…where was the sorry then?”
Selange refused to answer.
“What’s your defense for breaking up my family you little bitch?”
“I won’t insult you with one, besides; it won’t change what happened, will it?”
Ariana’s hand came up with lightning speed. Selange saw it and stood firm letting the woman strike her face and did not recoil from the blow. If hitting her made the woman feel better and allowed her to move on than it was a small price to pay for having a hand in toppling her home. “That’s a freebie Ariana, you won’t get another.” Selange warned her eyes and ears stinging from the hard slap.
“You stand there without an ounce of remorse. I hope my slap wakes your ass up because you don’t have a clue about how many people you hurt with your selfishness, do you?”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m staring at you and see it; I wake up in the morning and see it. Every night I see it and when I look at Alfonzo I feel it. So, you’re so-so wrong Ariana. The guilt has stripped me bare. I’ve said sorry many times to many people and you’re the last of the apologies when you should’ve been the second. I’ve cried so much over what I’ve done that I can’t cry anymore. I’m dried out and tired and fed up.” Selange’s blood boiled, “I’m not going to be the whipping board for anybody any more. I’m not going to grovel, if that’s what you want, you don’t get that satisfaction. Be glad I let you put your hands on me Ariana. I won’t let you abuse me or degrade me in front of my children in my damn house. You curse me or raise a hand to me again, I won’t slap you I’ll break your dainty hand!” Then Selange turned her back and marched to the door, daring Ariana to attack. At the door as an afterthought she said, “As a mother, I empathize with you and I know the guys will bring Darren home. That, you can believe!”
Bitch didn’t even slam the door, but closed it politely.
Once the woman exited, Ariana sank on the bed, staring at her hand. She’d slapped the hell out of that girl, yet she didn’t feel one iota of satisfaction. The remorse in Selange’s eyes was real. She represented liars every day and Selange was telling the truth. Ariana sprawled backwards on the bed, searching the ceiling, “Gosh!” Selange was the type of woman men rushed to protect. She had that sweet innocent face. Oooooh, the pretty little thing probably could do no wrong and if she did, she was ultimately forgiven. She could probably have a priest denounce his vows by batting those eyelashes and the sight of her curvaceous figure.
An exasperated breath escaped, “Ari get it together. Admit it, you’re jealous. Nico’s cheated on you numerous times. What’s got you pissed is he never brought those affairs home and he cared about that one, so you divorced him because you didn’t want to fight to keep him. You didn’t want to contend with a younger wo
man because you were afraid you’d lose and you never lose at anything!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Darren leaned his elbows on the windowsill, cradling his sore face with his hands as he watched the red hue of the clouds as dusk came. He’d never seen anything like it. He wondered what caused the primary color to appear. If he ever got out of here he planned to Google it and find out. Something was going on because he heard the creeps arguing. The sound came from downstairs. Somebody was pissed because he heard booming noises then, “I’ll rip your teeth out of your mouth if you lay a hand on the kid again you dumb shit!”
His ears became attentive, sort of how a dog does when it hears a sound before its owner. Darren’s ears detected a familiar voice and his forehead wrinkled like an old man when he recognized it was the dork. The pretentious freak who tried to befriend him and Aaron was behind this entire thing. No wonder he didn’t like the man. He and Aaron agreed he was a phony and even told their dad. Nobody listens to kids, do they?
Suddenly, the door opened and another guy, not the bald one, Darren figured he must’ve received a major ass beating, sat a fresh set of clothes on the dresser near the door with a Micky’D’s bag and a soda. What the heck was up with these people and their fast-food fetish? Not everybody eats the stuff.
The man exited without a word and Darren exhaled. He was growing impatient and so were his captors, he could tell. He checked his watch. It was eight-thirty. He eyed the white and red bag. Damn, he was hungry. Reluctantly, he walked to the dresser and pulled the food out. There wasn’t a hamburger, but those chicken strips Aaron liked. Gregory, the stupid fool must’ve thought because they were twins, they had the same appetite. Well, they didn’t. Aaron ate a lot of this crap, but Darren stayed clear of all the saturated fats and processed foods. He was Junior Captain of his high school basketball team and their leading point guard. To stay on his game, he had to eat right. Fruits, vegetables, unprocessed foods, lots of water and vitamin supplements. The obesity problem was partially due to lazy adults who’d rather push this junk at their kids than prepare a healthy meal. His mom cooked every other day and stored their food in those sealed containers for them to microwave. Then, grandma made sure he got a healthy dose of Caribbean food whenever he visited.
Darren bit into the fried poultry, chewing out of necessity to ward off the hunger. He missed his family; yeah he even missed his stinking brother Aaron. He wondered what the poop head was doing, probably with his girl, smooching and cuddling.
He swallowed the fried meat then washed it down with cola. It burned and he belched, “Oh man, I can’t wait to get home. These guys’ food choice is serious torture for a star athlete like me.”
****
Geovonna’s father phoned an hour ago from the airport to say he was on his way home. It didn’t take an hour from the airport to their house. Twenty minutes, at most, forty in evening traffic. She suspected he may have detoured to the bakery to bring home the cream filled delicacies he loved or decided to visit a friend.
She shrugged. She had a wonderful day shopping with friends. It was always a lovely day when she shopped. The large bags sitting on her bed were the spoils of her pleasure. Geovonna sift through the shopping bags and found the soft cotton pant suit with the pockets near the waist to try on. She had many dresses and today this particular outfit caught her eye. It was a Christian Dior and the color made the tint in her green eyes pop. She stripped out of from the tight dress and donned the suit. It fit like a dream. She walked across the room to the oblong floor mirror to admire how splendid she looked and smiled at her reflection. Giuseppe would love it. She pranced around looking at herself in admiration. Yes, she was hot. She bunched her hair in her hand, holding it away from her face and made kissy faces as she practiced how she would greet Giuseppe when next they met.
“Are those kisses for me?” An unfamiliar and heavily accented voice said from the doorway.
Geovonna turned. The strange man smiled. He was large, much larger than Giuseppe and had a noticeable scar from cheek to ear. She noticed these things within seconds, including the serrated blade in his hand. What she observed as he moved closer was the blood dripping from the tip. She did not panic or scream like the silly girls in those horror movies. Instead, she assessed her options and without hesitation darted to her dresser, grabbed the Kruger and fired. The bullet struck him in the throat, less than a meter away. He fell forward with a thud and she heard shouts in Russian, grabbed a Glock out the top drawer and ran barefoot to the balcony.
“Oh shit!” She exclaimed. She had no holsters and to jump with the guns in her hand could be injurious to her pretty face. Oh, the thought!
She flicked on the safety lock, shoved the weapons in the only place they’d remain secure, her brassiere and scaled the stone parapet. Her arms dangled and she looked down at the grass gauging the drop. She heard the men above and without fear relaxed her limbs then let go. She landed on a thick patch of grass and rolled beneath the elevated platform out of view. She snatched the weapons from her breasts and undid the safety and looked toward the clearing.
Amelda hexed her. She had no cell to call for assistance and the moment she stepped out the men would pick her off like game. To get to the outskirts of the property she’d need to go into the clearing. This would expose her and was very risky, but she could not stay here. They were coming and she did not know how many there were. The Russians had come and taken out her guards. They acted in stealth and hadn’t triggered any of the alarms which were signs they were a professional hit squad.
Geovonna heard shouts in Russian. She did not understand the language but could guess at what they said. They were coming down for her, leaving a man on the balcony in case she decided to make a run for it. She sighed. She was trapped and in the futile moment, she wished she listened to Amelda; instead she was here fighting alone. “Oh mio Giuseppe, I wish you were here.”
Then she heard her cell ringing and she smiled, believing where ever Giuseppe was he heard her plea and this was a sign of their connection, except it was not Giuseppe, it was Amelda who decided to check on the stubborn young woman.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The men were loading the money into laundry bags as the kidnapper instructed. Nico also placed miniature recording and tracking devices inside the large muslin sacks. Twenty minutes had gone by and they were ready to load and go. The only problem, they had no Ariana look alike. Giuseppe as usual found a needle to poke at his somber cousin, “We can always just put you in a dress Nico that will be funny to see.”
“Yeah, I think dresses are a more natural fit for someone like you.”
The men were smirking despite the severity of the moment and Alfonzo’s voice became a restoration of reason. “I’ll make a call. I know someone who can do it.”
“How far away is she or he?” Giuseppe smiled.
“She’s uptown. We’ll pick her up on the way through New York, but we need to get started or we’ll fall behind schedule.”
“We leave the limo.” Nico said and looked over at Dellegio. “You have the tinted SUV’s?”
“They’re out back, clean and ready to roll.”
“You can send my son down. By the way where’s Vincent’s boy?” Nico asked as Alfonzo ordered the men to start loading the bags in the vehicles.
Dellegio nodded to one of his guards and he sauntered out the door to fetch the man. Lou and the others had already chosen their weapons and the remaining arms were cleared away from view.
Aaron came down the stairs first with the ever present headphones on and like a kid looked around with a full rotation of his head. It was a basement, a place where men played cards and stored goods. He could see nothing out of the ordinary.
“Take a seat for a minute son,” Nico instructed his son.
The door opened again and the guys’ eyes were trained on the young man strolling with an unmistakable New York confidence and toughness of the street. He was an inch or so shorter than Geo, with a chocolate co
mplexion, a crop cut and a straight slightly crooked Grecian nose with a Vincent mouth but with fuller lips. He may have passed for a Samoan had the men not known who his father allegedly was. This is why Alfonzo didn’t assume anything about people based on the color of their skin; to him people were nothing more than mutts. It’s the individual actions which told him the most. This guy, well, let’s just say the jury was still out.
The young man shoved his hands in his jean pockets and eyeballed each of the three fearlessly, “Is this where I get whacked like in the movie?”
“Stop watching so many goddamn movies. What’s your name?” Alfonzo enquired studying the guy. The shifty eyes bothered him. They were scanning the men; assessing the value of their pockets by the threads on their backs and watches they wore. He hadn’t made any overt movements, yet the subtle tilt of the head then the sudden gleam in the eye when recognized a two hundred thousand dollar watch or crested diamond band were the calculative actions of a man casing a joint. The jury was in. The guy was a thief, it was the actions that gave him away and Alfonzo was intimately familiar with the man’s kind. They were the Carlos’ of the world, opportunistic street thugs who insinuated themselves in your clique, only to rob you blind. If this were Vincent’s kid then they all better keep him at a distance, because he was the troublesome type and Alfonzo had a shitload of trouble already in his life.
“Sergio.”
The men were silent. What were the chances of this kid having their grandfather’s first name? It wasn’t a coincidence. “What’s your last name?” Alfonzo queried.
“Daniels.”
“Humph.” Alfonzo’s eyebrow arched at the dude’s smug countenance. What the hell was he so cocky about, he wondered?
“Where you live?” Nico asked.
“Why you plan on visiting? What’s with the million questions? I only came here to see my father. Let him know the woman he knocked up at sixteen died.”
